


Five By Five and All That

by kesdax



Category: Angel: the Series, Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5065300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesdax/pseuds/kesdax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaw wakes up in a Samaritan fortress and things just get even more confusing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samgroves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samgroves/gifts).



> Set post If-then-else in the POI universe and roughly season 5 in the Angel universe.

It’s the pain she feels first, before she even opens her eyes. It’s duller now, like a never ceasing throb. She remembers waking other times, the pain where the bullets tore through her flesh sharp like a knife. It burned like fire.

She thinks they must have given her morphine, feels it weighing her body down like lead. Or… or maybe she’s just been here too long.

Her eyes are blurry; it takes a few moments before the room focuses and she can make out the grey walls and too bright fluorescent light, the medical equipment off to the side and the impenetrable door she’s already planning her escape through.

But as she tries to sit up, slow and stiff, the restraints at her wrist pull her back and she can’t find the strength to free herself, can’t keep her eyes open or stall the thudding in her head.

“Don’t try to move,” says a voice she thinks she recognises. She stiffens.

How many others are in the room with her?

She tries to turn her head but the pain flashes down to her neck, her shoulders until she can’t breathe anymore.

A hand, gentle, pushes her back down on the gurney. She sees a flash of white - lab coat - and a woman, brunette hair, long and soft with slight curls.

“Root?” Her voice croaks like a frog, like she hasn’t used it in weeks. “What-”

“Don’t try to talk. I’m just here to take some blood samples.”

“You’re not…”

No. She can see it now, how she was mistaken. This woman, the woman in a labcoat drawing blood out of her arm, how similar her features are to Root’s but somehow softer, eyes warmer.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Doctor Burkle.”

“You’re an MD?”

“No,” says Doctor Burkle. “Physicist.”

Shaw almost pulls her arm away at that, but the restraints hold her in place and she can feel the blood leave her along with her energy.

“Where am I?”

Burkle pauses, bites her lip. Shaw sees the way her eyes glance up and Shaw knows there’s a camera there, watching them.

Samaritan.

“Why is a physicist taking blood?” Shaw asks. Her mouth is dry, but she doesn’t ask for anything to quench her thirst. Not from these people.

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss that,” says Burkle and she does look afraid. Shaw has seen that look in Root’s eyes too. Right before Shaw shoved her backwards into an elevator. “Try to get some rest.”

“Wait,” says Shaw, but the woman is already gone and her eyes droop once again with exhaustion.

*

She never does find out what they did with her blood. She doesn’t believe for a second that it was for normal medical tests.

She doesn’t see the Root lookalike again either and wonders if she imagined the whole thing. That is… until they finally let her out.

She’s still weak and knows she has no hope of disarming her guards. They lead her down endless corridors past more medical suites and a lab where, after so many days she has lost track, she catches a glimpse of the physicist that looks like Root. The guards push her forward before she can catch Burkle’s eye and lead her into a large empty room. One of the guards removes her restraints, the other watching her carefully with a hand on his gun.

Then they leave her.

The cameras watch her and she remains absolutely still, giving them nothing. But even this, she knows, will intrigue Samaritan, Greer, whoever else is there.

Fuck them all, she thinks. Fuck these games.

“Sameen Shaw.”

Her flinch is minute, undetectable to most she thinks, but not the person she whips around to face. Tall, dark hair, tattoo on her upper right arm. She grins at Shaw and there is a hardness to her, but it’s almost like she is trying a little too hard.

“Who the hell are you?” Shaw asks.

“I’m the girl about to kick your ass.”

She moves, faster than Shaw anticipates, and she’s on the floor before she feels her feet being kicked out from under her. The air leaves her lungs, pain spasms up her back. But now she’s pissed and fuck all the pain, the tiredness. She is so ready for a fight.

“Come on, Sammy, they told me you were good.”

Shaw grits her teeth at the nickname and climbs to her feet. Her movements are slow, but her attacker waits until she is standing before coming at her again. This time, Shaw is ready. She sees the fist coming towards her and counters it. But this woman is solid, strong and as they continue to spar, Shaw suspects it's not just her recent recovery, her doped up body. This woman is something else.

Five minutes later, Shaw ends up on her back again, breathing heavily and even more pissed off than before.

“Okay,” says the woman, standing over Shaw with a slight smile on her lips. She looks almost impressed. “You held out longer than the others, I’ll give you that.”

“What others?” Shaw hesitates at the hand held out to her, but can see no reason for the woman to trick her now. She’s pulled swiftly to her feet, met with another grin. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Faith, but it's hardly important these days.”

Shaw wants to ask why not but doubts she’ll get an answer. The woman - Faith - is ignoring her anyway, eyes on one of the cameras attached to the ceiling.

“This one’s got potential,” she says, seemingly to no one. But those four words are sealing Shaw’s fate. Even if she doesn’t exactly have a clue what that is yet. Either way, if Samaritan is involved, it can’t be good.

“Potential for what?” Shaw asks.

Faith grins at her, stares at her for a long time; assessing her, like before, only this time it's not to test her physical abilities.

“Do you believe in vampires?”

Shaw snorts and within seconds she can tell that the question is serious, that Faith is unimpressed by her response.

“Witches? Demons?”

“What kinda shit did they have you on?” Shaw asks. This has to be some sort of weird Samaritan form of torture. But she can’t for the life of her figure out why.

“Well, they’re real. All of them,” says Faith. “And I fight them. You could say I was born to.”

And Faith tells her all about the Slayers, the chosen ones of every generation, born to kill vampires and other demons.

“But you see,” Faith continues, oblivious to the fact that Shaw doesn’t believe a word that she is saying. “Only one is chosen, but _so many_ have potential.”

She stares at Shaw so pointedly for several seconds that Shaw realises Faith is talking about her.

“That’s why Fred tested your blood.”

“Fred?”

“Doctor Burkle,” says Faith. “She’s got an eye for detecting slayer potential in blood.” She shrugs. “Don’t ask me how.”

“And you think I’m one of these potential slayers?” Shaw says, still not believing, still wondering when she is going to wake up in the subway from this nightmare.

“Yes,” says Faith. “And bonus points: we don’t need to train you to fight.”

“We?” asks Shaw, but she already knows the answer.

“Samaritan is building an army,” Faith explains. “You know Samaritan, right?”

“Yeah,” says Shaw. “I’ve heard of it. And you’re nuts if you think I’m going to start working for it.”

Faith shrugs, like it’s no big deal to her. And why should it be. If what she has been saying is true, then there are hundreds, thousands of potential slayers out there for Samaritan to choose from.

An entire army of woman, armed with super strength and everything Samaritan sees and hears....

If they were losing this fight before, it was surely not long before they lost it entirely.

“I think you’re forgetting something,” says Shaw. “Or maybe your boss just didn’t tell you. But I work for the other side.”

Faith scoffs. “And what makes you so sure you’re friends are still alive?”

_Nothing._

She’s been here for weeks, as far as she can tell. And a rescue party looks far from coming.

“The way I see it,” says Faith. “You got two options. Waste away in that cell of yours until Samaritan finally kills you. Or…”

The door finally clicks open, but it’s not the guards Shaw is expecting.

It takes her a second to remember that it isn’t Root.

Fred Burkle. The physicist. And potential slayer finder, apparently.

“Or?” asks Shaw, not taking her eyes off the woman walking towards her. She’s even the same height as Root.

“Or you join the winning side,” says Faith. “Five by five and all that.”

“Here,” says Burkle, handing Shaw a piece of gauze. “For your lip.”

Shaw hasn’t even realised it’s bleeding, and presses it hard to her lip despite the burning pain it produces.

“So what’ll it be, Serpico?” Faith asks.

“She doesn’t have to decide right now,” says Fred. Shaw can see the guards by the door and thinks Fred might be wrong about that one. Faith seems to agree, tapping at an imaginary watch on her wrist. But it’s the look in her eye - Fred’s too - the almost pleading desperation. But, in the end, it's the way Fred hesitates before glancing at the camera and Shaw remembers the gentle way in which she drew Shaw’s blood despite having no medical experience, the way she brought the bandage for Shaw’s swollen and bleeding lip.

In that second, Shaw realises; if she want to get out of here, find Root and the others, stop Samaritan once and for all… then these two people might be her only chance of escape.

Shaw just hopes that she isn’t wrong.

“Come on, Tex Mex,” says Faith, taking a hold of Fred’s elbow as the guards come in. “Haven’t you got work to do?”

Fred takes one last look at Shaw before nodding and letting Faith lead her out.

The shackles are placed back on Shaw’s wrists. Hardly surprising, that Samaritan - or maybe Greer - doesn’t fully trust her yet.

Give it time.

And, in time, she’ll make sure Samaritan wishes it had killed her after all.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re getting faster.”

Shaw dodges Faith’s right hook, almost trips over her own feet she had to move so quick and yet, somehow, she manages to stay standing. But the slip is enough to give Faith leverage, and the next thing she knows, her left arm is twisted up against her back and Faith has her pressed hard against the wall.

“But not fast enough,” Faith gloats in her ear.

“And you’re getting cockier,” says Shaw, lifting up her foot. Faith thinks she’s won, doesn’t expect the kick to her shin and groans as her grip loosens. It’s slight, but enough to give Shaw room to free herself and twist around, kick Faith’s feet out from underneath her. “But not cocky enough.”

Faith grins up at her, a mixture of bitterness at having lost and impressed that Shaw managed to beat her so easily. They’re almost evenly matched now, after weeks of training and Shaw rebuilding her muscle strength, her stamina. The wounds from the bullets she received at the stock exchange barely bother her now.

But she’s tired of these games, this so called training Samaritan is putting her through. She’s sick of being kept underground, the only times she’s allowed out of her cell when she’s in here fighting Faith. The rest of the time they keep her locked up, two guards outside her door that are never the same.

Some days, she’s not even sure it is Samaritan that has her locked up here. She hasn’t seen Greer or Martine or that English fuckboy Lambert. It’s just the faceless guards and Faith and, on rare occasions, Fred. And, every time, Shaw always has that moment before she realises who it is, that moment of hope that Root and the others have finally come to rescue her.

“I think you might be ready.” Faith climbs to her feet and Shaw gets the feeling she wasn’t really talking to her.

“Ready for what?” Shaw asks, but Faith only grins at her, sly and like she’s anticipating something.

The door behind Faith opens and, for the first time in months, Shaw finally sees someone she knows.

Expect, the arrogant grin, the confident swagger and, surprisingly, the now brunette hair, is the last thing Shaw wants to see.

Martine.

“Samaritan wants a field test,” Martine announces. Her eyes are on Shaw, like she is expecting some form of retaliation for the numerous bullets she put into Shaw. But Shaw isn’t stupid, she sees the armed guards not far behind Martine, still doesn’t fully trust Faith at her side.

Now isn’t the right time to make her move. Soon though, it will be.

“There’s a nest of vamps causing trouble up in the Bronx,” Martine explains. “Samaritan wants you two to take care of it.”

“Us two?” says Shaw. She doesn’t believe for a second that they are just going to let her walk out of this facility. But apparently they are. Martine nods, pulls a sharp wooden stake out of her waistband at the back and holds it out to Shaw. Eying it carefully, Shaw assesses her situation. The guards are armed, with bullets and not wood. Faith is still faster than her and she doesn’t doubt for a second that Martine came in here unarmed. Slowly, she takes the stake, watching and waiting to see what happens next. But nothing does. Martine grins at her like she knows what Shaw is thinking.

_Well let her grin,_ Shaw thinks. _Let her think she’s winning._

“And what’s to stop me from shoving this right into your jugular?” Shaw asks. She tightens her grip, the wood feels smooth in her hand and although it’s not a weapon she is used to, she’s pretty sure she knows where the pointy end is supposed to go.

“Well,” says Martine, full of confidence. “You could try. But Faith here has strict orders to kill you if you try anything. And believe me when I say it’s not something Faithy here is squeamish about.”

Shaw glances at the slayer and is surprised to find the anger on her face. There’s something else too… shame. Shaw doesn’t know what to make of it and even if she did, it’s gone before she can do anything about it.

“Get ready,” says Martine. “You leave in one hour.”

*

“This won’t hurt,” Fred promises, but when she injects the tracker beneath the skin in Shaw’s forearm, it stings enough that Shaw hisses the pain away. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Shaw mutters, pulling her sleeve back down. “I’ve had worse.”

“I meant about the tracker,” says Fred. She looks away, cheeks turning slightly pink and Shaw knows she regrets saying it, regrets the loss of control of her tongue as Samaritan stares down at them like always.

“It’s okay,” says Shaw. “Hardly your fault.”

But Fred only shakes her head, like she blames herself anyway and, not for the first time, Shaw wonders how she ended up here, in the hands of Samaritan, doing its dirty work.

She doesn’t seem like the type.

“I’ve fought vampires before,” says Fred. She’s not bragging. In fact, she seems almost surprised by it, that she fought a creature of the night and survived it. “They’re not so bad on their own. But a whole nest… Listen to Faith. She knows what she’s doing. She’ll keep you alive.”

“I have a feeling Samaritan wouldn’t be pleased if she didn’t,” says Shaw. She’s still unsure of her purpose here, of her place in this so called army of potential slayers that Samaritan is supposedly building. She’ll find out soon, she thinks, and doesn’t know whether to dread the day or long for it.

“Still,” says Fred and for the first time Shaw can see the worry in her eyes. “It would be nice to have you both back here in one piece.”

Shaw thinks that would be nice too. But she’d rather die out there fighting than waste away in this dungeon of Samaritan’s. She suspects Fred knows what she’s thinking and when she feels the hand on her arm, warm and firm and only trembling slightly, she isn’t surprised by the gesture itself. She’s surprised that Fred even cares. Why should she? Why should anyone?

But, apparently she does. And maybe that’s just Fred. Maybe that was her downfall, why she is here. Because she cares too much. Samaritan found her weakness and now is using it against her.

Shaw doesn’t like to think about what it will do when it discovers her own.

“You ready?” Faith’s lounging against the lab door and at the sound of her voice, Fred pulls her hand away abruptly, not looking at either of them.

“As I’ll ever be,” Shaw mutters, hopping off the stool Fred had insisted she sit down on for her injection.

“Grab your stake,” says Faith. “Let’s go slay us some vamps.”

“Be careful out there,” Fred calls to them as they leave the lab.

Grinning, Faith says, “I always am, Lone Star.” But Shaw gets the feeling the word “careful” isn’t really something that has ever been in Faith Lehane’s vocabulary.

*

Shaw’s not sure how she feels about going on a mission armed only with a piece of wood. But, as Faith has told her numerous times, guns barely slow a vamp down, so what would be the point?

At least with a gun she might have a chance of escape. Which is probably why she doesn’t have one. Or anything else that could give her an advantage.

“So how long have you been fucking Fred?” Shaw asks. She’s not looking at Faith, but she can tell the slayer has stiffened at the question and she stops fiddling with the crossbow in her hands.

They’re in the back of a van on their way to the Bronx. Another guard Shaw has never seen before driving and, irritatingly, Martine in the front next to him. No doubt she’s here to keep Shaw on a tight leash, and perhaps Faith on an even tighter one.

“What makes you think that?” Faith asks. She goes back to sorting her crossbow, as if unaffected by the question.

Shaw shrugs. “The way that she looks at you, I guess.” Shaw’s seen that look before, knows it all too well. She’s maybe even missed it a little, these past few weeks.

“Why you so interested?” Faith smirks knowingly. “You want a piece of that?”

Shaw remains silent, slides the tip of her stake across her thumb. It’s sharp, but a lot of force is required for it to pierce her skin.

“Rumour has it our very own Fredikins is a dead ringer for that friend of yours,” Faith continues, almost mockingly. Of course she knows everything about Shaw, about Team Machine. “You know, the one top of Samaritan’s shit list. She must be a real piece of work to piss off a God. What’s her name again? Root, right?”

“Don’t talk about her,” Shaw snaps and it’s the reaction Faith was expecting, hoping for.

“I think this is the first I’ve seen you so alive since we met,” says Faith. She looks a little relieved, maybe a little impressed. “Your thumb’s bleeding.”

Shaw glances down at her hands, unaware that her grip had tightened. It’s only a drop, pooling where she broke the skin with the stake point. She barely even feels it and sucks on it until the bleeding stops.

Faith smiles. “Thinking like a vamp, huh?”

The van slows to a stop and Shaw says nothing. Martine’s the one that opens the door. The smirk’s gone from her face and Shaw gets the impression she’s not keen about Samaritan’s little field test.

“Here,” she says, holding an earpiece out to Faith.

“I’m not wearing that,” says Faith, adamant as she hops out of the back of the van.

“Yes,” says Martine, her tone firm, “you are. Or you can go right back inside.”

It’s clear to Shaw that she’s not only prisoner here. Faith likes to act all tough, like she is in charge and Shaw is just her little project. But it’s a lie, an illusion.

“Fine,” Faith snaps, snatching the earpiece and shoving it into her right ear.

“Don’t I get one?” Shaw asks, not that she particularly wants Samaritan in her ear.

Martine smiles humourlessly. “Just stick close to Faith.”

“Come on,” Faith mutters, heading towards a derelict apartment building. Shaw follows, glancing up and down the street. It’s empty, barely any cover. Even if she did try to make a run for it she’s pretty sure Martine and her driver buddy can gun her down before she even gets clear. And even if she did, there’s still the problem of the microscopic tracker in her arm.

“I only have one rule,” says Faith, opening the door to the front entrance. Shaw raises an eyebrow, unsure what to expect. “Don’t get bit.”

*

Fighting vampires is unlike anything Shaw has ever experienced before. They’re strong, fast, blood thirsty. None of Faith’s training has prepared her for this.

At least she knows where the stake is supposed to go. And the force of it jitters up her arm as she shoves it into a vamp’s chest. It disintegrates into dust with a hiss like a fire going out. And that’s it. Gone. No bodies to get rid of, no blood to clean up. Her work for the ISA had never been this easy.

Two seconds later, she wishes she never had that thought.

She doesn’t hear it coming. Its footsteps are light, it doesn’t even need to breathe and it has an arm around Shaw’s throat from behind before she even knows what is happening. It’s a solid mass of dead tissue and no matter how much Shaw struggles, its grip never lessens, only tightens.

A gasp escapes her lips when its teeth sink into her neck. The pain is unbearable and she feels light headed within a matter of seconds. And angry. Bitterly angry that it’s going to end like this. In some dusty, shithole of an apartment in the Bronx for no reason whatsoever.

At least last time she thought she was going out with a bang. A kiss and a sacrifice only to wake up in hell with the world inside out.

Fucking vampires. How the fuck could the Machine have missed this?

Darkness clouds her vision and she knows she’s about to blackout, that the graffiti on the walls is going to be the last thing she will ever see.

But, suddenly, she’s pushed forwards, landing on her knees, hands automatically reaching out in front of her before she falls flat on her face. She hears the hiss of a vamp being dusted, brings a hand up to stem the flow of blood at her neck. It still fucking hurts and in the back of her mind, she’s making a mental note to ask Fred - if she survives that is - if vampire teeth contain some sort of venom or some shit. She feels sluggish, drugged and barely registers the tight grip on her arm as Faith pulls her to her feet and shoves her roughly up against the nearest wall.

“What was my one rule?” Faith hisses. She’s pissed. Shaw has never seen her like this and it takes her a moment to realise it’s also worry on her face. Just how long exactly had that vamp been feeding off her?

“Don’t get bit,” Shaw mumbles.

“Fucking idiot,” says Faith before kissing her roughly.

Shaw’s not expecting it, is too disoriented to really realise what’s happening and before she can react, Faith is pulling away, shuffling through the dust at their feet and storming out the door.

Two minutes at the most, Shaw thinks, before Martine is up here to drag her ass back to the van. In the meantime, she slinks to the floor, exhausted and sore and lips still tingling and wondering what Fred will think of this latest development.

Then she closes her eyes and it's not Faith or Fred she sees.

It’s Root.

It’s always Root.


	3. Chapter 3

“You were supposed to be careful.”

“We were.”

“She almost died!”

“But she didn’t, so what’s the big deal?”

“Faith…”

Fred’s voice has softened, quietened, but it still feels like a jackhammer to Shaw’s head. She groans and opens her eyes, wishes she hadn’t. Everything is so _bright._

“Do you guys have to be so _loud_?” she complains.

“You’re awake.” It’s Fred, at her side in an instant. Shaw can feel her hands fussing over the wound at her neck and when she opens her eyes again, Fred’s face is full of worry, more worry than Shaw would have expected her to give to a stranger she barely knows.

“What happened?” Shaw asks, struggling to sit up. Fred helps, frowning slightly in disapproval and Shaw gets the feeling that if she had her way, Fred would have her still asleep underneath a thousand blankets for the next several days.

“What happened was you almost died,” says Fred angrily before Faith can even open her mouth. Shaw catches her rolling her eyes at the back of Fred’s head but she otherwise remains motionless with her arms folded as she leans against one of the lab benches. There’s a cut on her forehead that Shaw is pretty sure wasn’t there before; but before she can ask, Fred’s fussing at her again, checking vitals and babbling about calling in that idiot Samaritan and co insists on calling a doctor.

“I’m fine,” Shaw insists. “What happened to you?” She stares at the freshly stitched cut on Faith’s forehead and, although she isn’t looking anywhere near Fred, she feels the physicist freeze.

“Nothing,” says Faith. “Just a little skirmish.”

“But not with a vampire,” says Shaw and wonders if it was Martine’s doing. She still can’t remember getting back here, but she doubts Samaritan was pleased that she almost died. Martine probably couldn’t have cared less.

One thing she does remember though…

Faith’s lips on hers.

It’s then that she realises Faith is watching her carefully and she remembers how Faith’s body language pretty much confirmed that she and Fred are a thing. Shaw doesn’t know what to make of it, is too tired to even think properly and, in the end, as Fred finally persuades her to lie back down again, she decides it was just a dream, an hallucination from the blood loss.

And she mostly definitely doesn’t want to do it again.

*

When she wakes, she’s still in Fred’s lab. Head still sore, neck throbbing and thirsty enough to drink a small lake.

“How long was I out?” she asks.

Fred stiffens slightly from her place behind her desk, darts her eyes away from the book that is absorbing her attention to stare at Shaw.

“A couple of hours this time,” says Fred. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” Shaw admits. She swings her legs over the edge of the gurney, feels light headed and shaky and doesn’t dare try to stand quite yet. “But also worse.”

Fred hums in disagreement.

“It’s my own stupid fault anyway,” Shaw continues, unsure why she feels the need to explain to Fred, this woman who looks like Root but is so vastly different it’s hard for her to remember why she ever thought they were similar. “I wasn’t watching my back.”

“Faith was supposed to be watching your back.”

Shaw shrugs and it hurts. Everything hurts.

“You’re mad at her.” It’s not a question; Shaw can see the anger flash in Fred’s eyes. And it’s not because Shaw almost died, it’s because Faith could have so easily been in her place.

“I’m always mad at Faith for something,” Fred mutters and glances back down at her book. “She’s reckless and… She’s not invincible. Sometimes I think she forgets that.”

Even Shaw can see it, despite not knowing Faith that long. She has a way about her, a confidence that is deadly if misplaced. But she has a reason for it, Shaw thinks. Faith is strong, powerful. And she hasn’t died yet. Not like all the other slayers before her. According to Faith, she is older than the average age of a slayer when they died. Perhaps when they were killed is a better way of putting it and Shaw unwittingly thinks about the vampire that caught her unawares, feels her neck throbbing where his teeth had sunk in.

She wonders, if she had been chosen, would she have been a good slayer? Or would she have ran out of those nine lives of hers a long time ago? Hey, maybe this potential slayer business is why she’s managed to survive this long in the first place. But, as the days grow longer, turning into weeks and months and she’s still stuck here under Samaritan’s thumb, she starts to wonder if survival is worth it after all.

She doesn’t even know if Root and the others are still alive.

“What are you reading?” Shaw asks, before her thoughts can turn more morbid than they already are.

“I’m doing some research on demonology,” Fred explains, glancing back down at her book. She shuts it, trailing her hand across the cover absently.

“There are books on demons?”

Fred nods. “Thousands probably. It’s not really my area of expertise, but I’m pretty sure this thing was written in three different demon languages - all of them dead - and I can only make out about every eighth word. And even then I doubt I’m right.”

“Demon languages?” says Shaw and can feel a headache coming on at the thought. It’s just one crazy thing after another with these people.

“I think Samaritan has been trying to translate it too,” Fred continues. She bites at her bottom lip, staring worriedly at the book and, for the first time, Shaw wonders what’s so important about it, why Samaritan needs to know what it contains and, if it does finally translate it, how dangerous it’s going to be for the rest of them. “Wes always used to do this sort of thing.”

“Who’s Wes?” Shaw asks. The light headedness has passed and Shaw finally feels confident enough to hop off the gurney. She wobbles slightly, can see Fred eyeing her carefully; but when Shaw doesn’t stumble or pass out, she turns her attention back to her demon book before answering her.

“Wes was…” Fred starts and Shaw can tell this is hard for her to explain, that Shaw might be the first and only person Fred has ever opened up to. Shaw wonders why her, but her curiosity wins out over her instinct to run from it. “He died.” Fred swallows. “We had this little group… fought bad guys. It was… we were more like family than a team.”

Shaw nods and now it's not Root she thinks about first, but Reese who is the closest thing she has ever had to a brother. Harold, who she couldn’t stand at first and now she wonders what any of them would do without him there. He’s their leader whether he or anyone else likes it or not. And Fusco, perhaps the only person she considers a friend even if he is a pain in the ass; she’ll always have his back and has no doubt he would have hers too.

But finally there is Root. Who, like Faith, can be reckless; can mistake the Machine’s guidance for invincibility.

Root is the only person who has ever managed to get under Shaw’s skin and, despite everything, despite evil machine overlords and kisses goodbye, she’s still there, still on Shaw’s mind, still a part of her like a virus invading her overwhelmed immune system and making itself at home in every single one of her cells.

“What happened to them?” Shaw asks. “Your team?”

Fred looks at her, sad and almost afraid. “We became a bigger team.”

Shaw frowns, unsure what that means.

“There was this law firm back in LA,” Fred explains. “A pretty big, evil demon law firm. We ran it for a while. Trying to work against the bad guys from the inside out.”

Shaw stares. “I thought you were a physicist?”

Fred smiles, raises an eyebrow. “ _That’s_ what you’re taking away from all this. That I’m not a lawyer. Not the evil part?”

“You don’t look evil to me,” says Shaw, shrugging. But Fred looks like she doesn’t believe that and, not for the first time, Shaw wonders how someone like Fred ended up working for Samaritan, seemingly willingly.

“Anyway,” says Fred dismissively. “Samaritan destroyed most of the firm during the Correction. My boss was killed, most of the staff… I don’t know why it let me live.”

“Apparently it wants to use you for something,” Shaw mutters. _And me_ , she thinks.

“Yeah,” says Fred. “But we probably shouldn’t be talking about this.”

It’s Shaw that glances at the camera watching them, wonders what Samaritan makes of their conversation, how long it will be before it decides to “correct” them too.

*

As soon as Samaritan's medical staff - and Fred - gives her the all clear, Faith has Shaw back in the gym. It seems she has forgotten Shaw’s little tangle with death and she sets a fast and brutal pace that Shaw struggles to keep up with. She ends up on her back more often than not, sore and exhausted, but Faith never lets up, seems to get angrier with each thud of Shaw’s body hitting the mat.

“Are you trying to get your ass kicked?” Faith demands heatedly the eighth time it happens.

Shaw grunts in response and when Faith doesn’t help her to her feet, she rolls over and pushes herself up with her hands. She’s not expecting the foot at her back, a second later her face pressed forcefully against the mat.

“Is this what you want?” Faith hisses. She’s crouched down now so she can talk right in Shaw’s ear. “Do you know how easy it would be for me to break your neck? End it all?”

“Then do it,” Shaw mutters. She doesn’t know if Faith can hear her muffled voice, but the hands on her neck are cold and rough and Shaw knows, somehow, that Faith has done this before. Killed in cold blood.

Several seconds pass where they both remain still and Shaw wonders, absently, why Samaritan has yet to send someone in here to stop Faith. Unless this is what it wants. To see how far Faith will go.

But Faith doesn’t do it, for whatever reasons. Instead she lets go of Shaw in disgust, storms out of the gym without a word and Shaw lets out the breath she was holding, rolls over and stares up at the ceiling. The lights are bright, but there is a dimness to this place that reminds her of the subway, which was always dark and cold and empty. But it was their safe haven, their home and now, finally, she’s realising that she will probably never see it again. And if she does, she doubts it will ever be the same.

She’s trapped here. There’s only one way out for her and Faith’s hands around her neck was her last chance of escape and she lost it.

“Feeling sorry for yourself?”

It’s Fred.

Shaw doesn’t know how long she has been standing there, how much of her exchange with Faith she saw. Shaw says nothing and finally stands up. She expects to see worry in Fred’s eyes and is surprised when it isn’t there. Fred looks more annoyed than anything and it takes a moment for Shaw to realise it’s not at Faith but at _her_. For giving up so easily, she thinks.

Well fuck that. Doesn’t she have every reason to give up? There’s no point in anything anymore.

“I want to talk to Greer.”

“That’s not going to happen,” says Fred. She pulls a cell phone out of her pocket and Shaw stares at it. It’s a lifeline to the outside world and she wonders how Fred got it and why. “But I need you to do something. Well… Samaritan does.”

“Do what?” Shaw asks hesitantly. Her instincts are screaming at her that this is bad, that absolutely nothing good can come of this.

“Your friend’s are making nuisances of themselves,” Fred explains.

“They’re alive?” Shaw doesn’t believe it and when Fred nods, looking almost sad about it, she knows it’s true.

She feels cold, then, and her ears start to ring. She doesn’t know why it feels like a betrayal, but it does. They’re out there, free, and she’s stuck in here, waiting, dying.

They’ve never come for her.

But, as Fred hands her the phone and tells her what Samaritan wants her to do, she knows they will now.

“I’m not leading my friend’s into a trap.”

“You don’t have a choice,” says Fred. “I’m sorry.”

And Shaw knows she is, but sorry isn’t going to save Root or Finch or Reese’s lives. But, just maybe, they’ll be able to do that all by themselves. They have before and Samaritan has failed more than once at stopping the Machine. Shaw trusts them all enough to figure out it’s a trap and take the necessary precautions.

Shaw takes the phone and Fred’s eyes never leave her.

“Root, are you there? It’s me. I need your help…”

*

Faith thinks she is being silent when she slinks through the door into Shaw’s room. Her digs are nicer now that they’ve moved and, perhaps, that’s the only silver lining she has in this whole mess.

That and the knowledge that Root and the others survived.

Oh, and Martine is now dead. By Root’s hands apparently. Shaw can’t say she is sorry by the loss, but no doubt Greer is pissed at losing one of his best assets. But Shaw wouldn’t know, she’s never seen the old man since they moved her here. She hasn’t seen anyone apart from her guards. Not even Faith or Fred. Until now that is.

“What do you want?” Shaw finally sighs when it doesn’t look like Faith is going to talk first, or do anything other than stand there watching her.

“How does it feel to have sold out your friends?”

“Fuck you,” Shaw mutters heatedly.

“Shouldn’t I be the one doing the fucking?” says Faith with a smirk. “Since you like being on your back so much.”

Shaw doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead she goes back to the book she’s been pretending to read for the past two hours on the history of slayers.

“But maybe you like that,” Faith continues. “I know you like the pain too. Part of you enjoyed it when that vamp was sucking the life out of you, didn’t you?”

“Get out,” says Shaw, but it only makes Faith smirk. She uncrosses her arms and steps further into the room, eyes Shaw and the book she is reading.

“You can never learn anything good out of a book, you know,” says Faith.

“Well my teacher sucks,” Shaw counters, suddenly not liking her seated position on the bed where it is so easy for Faith to tower over her.

“Maybe you’re just not a willing enough student,” Faith argues and climbs on the bed, straddling Shaw’s thighs and prying the book out of her hands. “Why don’t we change that?”

“What are you doing, Faith?”

“What we both want?” says Faith with a shrug, leaning in close until there is barely any space between them. Shaw stares at dark, cold eyes and knows she is nothing to this woman but a pawn in her game with Samaritan. That’s all Shaw is these days; someone else's tool, their plaything and she refuses to do this with Faith anymore.

“And what about Fred?” Shaw asks.

“What about her?” says Faith, she sounds aloof, but her eyes betray her. They’ve softened slightly. Maybe Faith cares about Fred after all.

“Aren’t you two a thing?” asks Shaw.

Faith smiles, almost fondly and, abruptly, she’s moved away, climbed off Shaw and heads towards the door. “Something like that.”

*

Her training starts again. Faith puts her through her paces, but is not nearly as harsh and, after a couple of weeks, she’s out in the field again killing vamps and demons that haunt even Sameen Shaw’s dreams at night.

They spar almost every day, with Samaritan always watching. Fred watches too. Sitting at the side with her demon book in her lap. Most of the time her eyes - when they aren’t attempting to decipher dead demon languages - are on Faith. But every now and then, Shaw catches Fred watching her.

And she knows that look, has suffered it long enough. Has missed it as well, if she is being honest.

But still, the look of unmistakable lust on Fred’s face has got nothing on the way Root used to look at her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Caro :))

Shaw hears the squelch and it’s already too late. A disgusting sound and one she hopes never to hear again. But it’s the _smell_ that really gets her. And when the gooey innards of the demon explode and cover her head to toe, along with pretty much the entire small apartment (she’s still not entirely sure how Faith managed to dodge most of, still a little bitter that Fred hightailed it outta there without warning them first), the stench is literally up her nose. And in her hair and clothes and pretty much in places she never knew she had.

“Was that supposed to happen?” Faith asks. She’s staring at the floor, trying to find a spot that isn’t covered in goop without much success.

Shaw wipes at her face, only succeeding in moving the green slime around rather than removing any of it.

“Klarpburrs are highly sensitive creatures,” says Fred from the door. She’s kneeling to collect a sample of the green demon blood slime that they came here for. Apparently it has some medicinal purposes that Samaritan wants to recreate in the lab. Although Shaw can’t fathom why an evil AI overlord would want to help the humans it’s so easily suppressing. “The slightest startle and they will… well…” She gestures to slime covering Shaw. “Just be grateful it’s not toxic.”

“Grateful?” says Shaw bitterly. A smile twitches the corners of Fred’s lips and Shaw’s eyes narrow in warning. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say a word,” says Fred, but now her smile has broadened into a grin that she can’t quite hide as she gathers up her blood samples and stores them in the bag over her shoulder.

“Green’s a good colour on you though,” Faith says. She’s grinning too and ha fucking ha, of course Shaw’s is the punch line to everyone’s joke.

“Shut up,” Shaw mutters and storms past them both out of the apartment building, not caring that, technically, she’s not allowed to venture off by herself. Samaritan still doesn’t trust her. But there’s still that stupid tracker in her arm and she’s pretty sure she’s leaving a trail of green goo in her wake that can be easily followed. And, wisely, Faith and Fred don’t follow her just yet; but she can hear Fred giggling in that way of hers; amusement and nerves and innocence that even Shaw knows left her a long time ago.

Outside it’s cold and dark and there’s no one around to stare at her and give her curious looks. She spots a camera across the street and wonders if Samaritan is laughing at her too, stares at it defiantly for a few moments before her thoughts shift to another AI. Not for the first time she wonders if the Machine is still out there somewhere. If it can see her, but can’t communicate, can’t tell the others to come find her, properly this time, and get her out of this hell.

Sure, killing demons and vampires is fun, but she struggles to see a larger purpose in it all. In the end, when all evil is gone, there will just be Samaritan. And Shaw doubts that will be any better.

“Sorry, we shouldn’t have laughed.”

Shaw stiffens at the sound of Fred’s voice, shrugs like it’s nothing and finally glances away from the camera.

“Did you get what you needed?” she asks.

Fred leans against the wall behind her, nodding. “I should be able to extract the correct protein once we get back to the lab.” She pauses, goes still and out of the corner of her eye Shaw can see her biting her lip. “Would you like to help?”

“Don’t you have Samaritan approved lab assistants for that?”

“They’re all idiots.” Fred shrugs. “I’d rather have you.”

Shaw stiffens, stares at her and the hidden implications behind those words. The pinkness at her cheeks give everything away and Shaw knows it’s not from the cold, knows what Fred is hinting at despite the subtleness that is so unfamiliar from that voice, that mouth. But Fred isn’t Root, no matter the physical similarities. And where Root would have no shame, Shaw can tell that Fred is already regretting her words, desperate to take them back and knowing she can’t.

“We ready to roll?”

Fred jumps at the sound of Faith’s voice, smiles shyly and nods. And even though Faith says nothing as they head back towards the van, Shaw knows she’s sensed the tension between her and Fred. There’s an aggressiveness to the way she opens the back of the van and slams it shut once Shaw and Fred are barely inside. Usually, Faith rides in the back, but this time she sits in the front next to their stoic Samaritan watchdog who drives them back to base.

*

She’s burning her clothes, she decides, as she’s peeling them off her sticky, green skin and dumps them at her feet. Most of the slime has dried, hardened like an exoskeleton across her skin and itches all over. Shaw turns the shower on high, steps underneath the scalding hotness and watches as the water runs green down the drain, glad that it’s coming off without too much difficulty.

Samaritan has them hold up in an old derelict school. These showers used to be part of the changing rooms, endless girls coming and going after gym class, showering quickly to get to their next lesson. Shaw takes her time. She’s in no rush unless Samaritan decides to send them out in the field again and the last thing she wants is to discover she missed a spot. Demon blood is definitely more disgusting than human blood.

“Need a hand washing your hair?”

Shaw doesn’t turn around, doesn’t say a word and hopes that Faith will get bored and just leave. But of course she doesn’t. Messing with Shaw is her new favourite game.

“Lemon juice.”

“What?” says Shaw. She glances over her shoulder. Faith is standing there fully clothed watching, uncaring of the spray of water bouncing up to hit her.

“For your hair,” Faith explains. “It’s the only thing that works. Trust me.”

“I’m fine,” Shaw mutters, running a hand through her wet hair. It’s heavy and greasy and feels entirely out of place on top of her head.

“Sure you are,” says Faith and Shaw knows that tone of voice, that condescension. “It must be so easy now.”

Like usual, Shaw doesn’t know what Faith is referring too; but she’s got a stick up her ass about something and maybe it’s finally time to let it all out.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shaw asks. She turns around, uncaring that she is fully naked and Faith isn’t. But with the way Faith is staring at her, eyes flickering upwards suddenly like she’s only just realised what she is doing, Shaw suspects she’s not the one with the disadvantage here.

Faith finally shrugs, keeps her eyes level with Shaw’s. “Just that you seem to have accepted your place here.”

“It’s not like I had a choice.”

“We all have choices,” says Faith. “One day you wake up and realise it’s time to stop making bad ones.”

“Like killing a man?” says Shaw. For a moment, Faith almost looks surprised. But then the bravado is back and she smirks at Shaw like she knows the names and faces of all the people Shaw has killed over the years, like she thinks they are the same. Except they’re not. Shaw killed terrorists to protect people and Faith… Shaw doesn’t know. But whatever the circumstances, the reasons for it, Shaw can tell that Faith regrets it, that she’s paid for it a thousand times over.

“You’ve already accepted defeat,” Faith says, sounding like she’s disappointed in Shaw. And perhaps she has every right to be. Shaw hasn’t once tried to escape despite numerous opportunities. “You’ve given up.”

“So what if I have?” says Shaw. “What’s it to you?”

Faith shrugs as if it means nothing and Shaw knows this part is an act, but it’s not for Shaw’s benefit. It’s for the cameras always watching them.

“You’re out there with me,” says Faith. “If that’s to continue and need someone who’s still willing to fight. I need to know if you are that person.”

She’s not talking about vampires and demons. Shaw doesn’t know how she knows that, but she does. Faith is playing a dangerous game underneath Samaritan’s watchful eye and now she’s luring Shaw in too. But she’s known Faith long enough now to know that, despite the occasional recklessness, she has a plan there somewhere. Even if it is a half assed one.

There is no way for Shaw to know for sure what it is. She can only hope it’s a way to escape this Samaritan hell once and for all.

The bathroom door swings open and they both hear it over the noise of the shower. For a second, Shaw is sure Samaritan is on to their little discussion, the operatives have been sent to execute them once and for all. But it’s only Fred, carrying a pile of clothes and looking surprised - and somewhat embarrassed - when she notices Faith is here too.

“Oh, hi,” says Fred. Faith only smirks at her like she knows why Fred is here and, a second later, Shaw knows why too.

Fred’s eyes are almost hungry as they travel up Shaw’s body and when their eyes finally meet, she blushes furiously, stammers out her words. “I brought you a change of clothes.”

“Pretty sure that’s not all she came for,” Faith mutters and if anything only grins wider at the glare Fred shoots her.

“That’s not... I mean, I wasn’t-”

“It’s fine,” says Shaw before Faith can say anything more to make this worse. “I’m done anyway.”

She shuts off the shower, still feeling unclean. But anything is better than the awkwardness, the way Fred stares at her nervously.

They are both still standing there even after Shaw has covered herself up with a towel and she rolls her eyes, dries herself off and says, “Planning on watching me get dressed too?”

“Well,” says Faith, smirking cockishly at her now. “If you’re offering…”

“Faith,” Fred warns and for once Faith listens to her, steps away from the showers and towards the door, her boots squelching across the floor with each step. “Sorry,” Fred mutters, once Faith is gone.

Shaw shrugs, unsure what, exactly, Fred is even apologising for.

“Do you still want to help me with the protein extraction?” Fred asks.

“Sure,” says Shaw, because anything is better than sitting alone in her room doing nothing. Except, once she is dressed and meets Fred in the lab, she can feel the tension coming from Fred, see it in the rigid way she sits and stares down a microscope, the way she can’t quite meet Shaw’s eyes anymore. She hides behind her science and demonology and Shaw knows that even though nothing has happened between her and Faith since that kiss when she almost died, she feels like she’s crossed some sort of line anyway.

“Look, um,” Shaw begins. “About you and Faith…”

“What about us?” says Fred absently, forehead creasing into a frown as she jots some notes down into her notepad.

“You two… you’re together, right?”

Fred sighs, rubs at her temples. “It’s complicated.”

“Okay,” says Shaw and doesn’t ask for details. Even if she did care, it’s none of her business.

“I care about her,” Fred continues a moment later. “But it’s not some whirlwind romance, star-crossed lover’s thing. We’re just…” She stops, bites her lip and turns back to the microscope. “And… I’m starting to care for someone else too.”

She says the last almost like a whisper, like a secret she hadn’t meant to reveal. Shaw stiffens and waits, but Fred says nothing more. Doesn’t clarify what she said or deny Shaw’s suspicions.

And yet, who else could Fred be talking about?

“Fred, I-”

“It’s okay,” Fred says quickly. “You don’t have to say anything. That’s not why I…” She finally looks up, finds Shaw staring at her and blushes. “But I get it,” she continues. “This is confusing for you. I look like her.”

“Fred,” says Shaw and looks away. Of course she noticed. How could she not? She must see it in the way Shaw looks at her sometimes before she can stop herself, or the way her voice goes considerably softer when Fred is around. Or, maybe, it goes right back to that day when they first met, when Shaw was doped up on pain meds and thought Root was by her side.

Fred had to have known the effect she had on Shaw all these months. And the fact that Samaritan hasn’t exploited it yet is the only reason Shaw finally allows herself to trust Fred completely.

And when that happens, she relaxes. She forgets they are in some Samaritan base camp, that they are being monitored constantly. That there is a war on and they’re caught up in enemy lines with no escape in sight.

“Sameen.” Her voice is soft, nervous and Shaw can’t tell if it’s a question or not. She’s missed it, the sound of her name spoken in that voice. She’s too caught up in the sound of it to register Fred leaning towards her. And then Fred’s lips are on hers, soft and warm and gentle. There’s none of the roughness of Faith’s kiss, no desperation before Shaw pulled away and shoved Root into the elevator, closed it on her and went out with a bang.

Except nobody told her the bang was going to end up like this.

Her team, her _friends_ , are alive because of her. But for how much longer? How much time do any of them have left with Samaritan gaining more and more control every day? Time, something that has always existed and will continue to exist long after they are all gone, seems so fragile and fallible to Shaw. And, for once in her life, she’s at a loss for what to do. Control is not something that she easily relinquishes and here’s Samaritan, working through Faith, Martine, Fred… each of them controlling her in their own way and for their own purposes.

Even Finch, back when everything was so simple and numbers were irrelevant, tried to control her.

But Root never did. Root always knew when to step back, always knew _her_.

And as long as Root thinks she is still alive, she won’t stop. She’ll keep going until she finds Shaw.

Shaw knows this with a certainty she can’t explain and for the first time in months, the hope that this might all end another way urges her to fight.

She pulls away from Fred, ignores the moan that should have belonged to Root as it escapes Fred’s mouth.

“I can’t,” says Shaw.

“Because I look like her?”

Shaw nods and Fred smiles, but it’s not with sadness. It’s with something else; excitement, nerves, _something_ that shouldn’t be there. The same thing Shaw felt coming from Faith in the shower. They have a plan. Shaw just doesn’t know what it is yet.

“Go to Faith,” says Fred and touches the tips of her fingers to Shaw’s mouth before she can speak. Shaw nods, aware that they are being watched. Surely something about this exchange should be alerting Samaritan’s suspicions. It’s studied human’s long enough to know that something else is going on here. But, then again, _it_ isn’t human. It doesn’t have any of its own experiences of human interaction. And, because of that, it will never understand human beings. Not completely.

_And_ , Shaw thinks, _this is exactly how we’re going to win._

“You should tell her,” says Fred. “When you see her again.”

Shaw knows they are no longer talking about Faith and for once she doesn’t close her eyes, picture leather and an elevator, a cocky smile and eyes so full of brightness and hope that Shaw can hardly believe it was due to her. Instead, this time, she keeps her eyes open. Stares at Fred and knows she can never compare to Root, can never be a replacement. She is Fred and Root is Root and it’s time Shaw started fighting back. No more giving in and giving up.

“You should tell her,” Fred repeats. “Don’t keep wasting time. Or one day you’ll wake up and it’ll be too late.”

She talks with the familiarity of experience and Shaw can only nod. Words, like most of the time, have failed her.

But, for the first time in months, she can finally see a point to it all, her purpose. A reason for fighting back.

*

In the end, it’s Faith who comes to her.

She doesn’t say a word when she comes into Shaw’s room and, this time, when Faith straddles her Shaw doesn’t protest or ask what she is doing. Faith’s eyes are dark, her lips slightly parted and when Shaw leans up to kiss them, they feel rough, cold, much like the skin beneath Shaw’s fingertips.

“You sure?” says Faith, pulling away slightly.

Shaw fights the urge to roll her eyes, tells her to shut up and lifts Faith’s tank top up over her head. Faith doesn’t talk after that. She kisses Shaw hard, almost angrily, like that night when the vampire bit her. Except when Faith bites her, teeth sinking right into the same spot, Shaw’s hips buck in response, she lets out a groan and feels the pain pulse arousal through her. She can feel Faith grinning into her skin, knows she’s about to make some sort of comment about that night, about just how much Shaw enjoyed it and how Faith knew it all along.

Shaw doesn’t let her. Gripping Faith’s upper arms, she tries to flip them around. But Faith has always been stronger than her, and now is no different. Her thighs are like vices as they clamp her into place. And she tears at Shaw’s shirt, forces it up over her head, attacking the freshly exposed skin of Shaw’s abdomen with her tongue, her teeth.

It’s almost caring the way she takes her time to kiss the scars from the bullets Martine put into her. But then she pauses, hands on Shaw’s hips, edging at the fabric of her pants. Anticipation makes Shaw’s breaths shallow and uneven and when she meets Faith’s eyes - still dark, slightly unsure - she knows this isn’t about sex. This is something else. Shaw just doesn’t know what yet.

She nods and Faith kisses her again, removes her bra with a swiftness that could only come from practice. Then she’s slow as she kisses her way down Shaw’s body. There’s something deliberate about it that Shaw is sure she would have noticed sooner if she wasn’t so distracted. And Faith makes sure she does notice; digs her fingers into Shaw’s hips until it hurts, bruises. It clears her head a little.

They learned Morse code in the marines, but Shaw’s father had taught her it years before that. He used to leave her secret messages all over the house and, when she had managed to solve them all, he would take her out for ice cream as a reward.

Shaw thinks her reward this evening is going to be a lot better than cookie dough ice cream. Even if she hasn’t quite figured out what Faith’s message means yet. All she has is a time, a place. Whatever it is, it must be important enough to pass on, to risk getting caught by Samaritan despite Faith’s more... _unique_ way of giving her the message.

But, a few seconds later, as Faith is unzipping her pants with clear intentions, Shaw finds she doesn’t care all that much about getting caught.

*

“Enjoy your evening?”

Shaw stiffens at the question and Lambert continues to smirk at her even as she says nothing. For a second, she worries that he knows about the message, about what’s to happen in about five minutes time. But he only winks in that boyish way of his before disappearing around a corner. She doesn’t allow herself to relax until he is well out of sight, the sound of his footsteps fading.

If she deciphered Faith’s message correctly - and she’s most certain that she did - then whatever is about to happen is happening in Fred’s lab. But when she gets there, everything looks normal. Fred is in her lab coat, frown on her face as she concentrates on that damn demon book she’s been obsessed with for weeks.

“Need a hand with anything?” says Shaw. She’s unsure what she’s supposed to do, if Fred even knows. But then she remembers the way Fred kissed her, the way she practically pushed her into Faith’s arms. She’s definitely in on it. Which makes the whole situation even more fucked up considering she is Faith’s sort of but not quite girlfriend.

“Actually,” says Fred and slams her book shut. “I need you to take care of this.”

“Why?” asks Shaw. The book is heavy when Fred hands it to her and it even feels old in her hands.

“It’s important,” says Fred and when Shaw stares at her sceptically adds, “Trust me.”

Shaw doesn’t know why but she does and she can feel a thousand questions on the tip of her tongue about what’s happening here, how they are hiding from Samaritan, are they escaping, what the fuck is going on…

But she asks none of it, aware that their overlord is watching closely and that Faith already risked too much last night when she came to Shaw’s bed.

Faith had fucked her more than once and Shaw told herself it was just to make sure, to deter any suspicions that Samaritan might have. She does wonder, though, if Faith plans on telling Fred all the sordid details.

“Whatever happens,” Fred continues, “don’t let that book out of your sight.”

“Whatever happens?” Shaw asks and Fred glances nervously at the watching cameras. It’s then that Shaw knows Fred would never have been able to pass on the message even if Shaw had wanted to do more than kiss her. She’s too on edge and has been ever since whatever plan she and Faith put into place began. But at least Shaw knows now how they have been communicating. She just wishes Faith had told her more. It’s almost like they don’t quite trust her fully and for that she feels a spark of annoyance. But it’s more at herself for being passive this whole time, for not fighting back against Samaritan and Greer. She sat on her ass, let them control her, turn her into the potential slayer for their army against the world.

Fred nods. “It’s almost time.”

Time for what, Shaw wants to ask but knows she won’t get an answer. Not from Fred anyway. But about thirty seconds later, just shy of the time Faith had told her, the old school building’s fire alarm goes off.

“This is it,” Fred mutters under her breath. “Follow me.”

“Follow you where?” Shaw asks, but Fred isn’t listening anymore. She’s sticking her head out of the lab door and Shaw can see past her out into the hallway, catches a glimpse of the guards running in one direction towards, presumably, the fire that set the alarm off.

“Do you have the book?” asks Fred once the hallway is clear. Shaw nods and tightens her grip on it. “Good. We’re getting out of here.”

Fred looks determined, sure of herself, as she steps out of the lab. Shaw hasn’t seen her like this before and she’s more than a little doubtful at Fred’s abilities to get them out of here, past Samaritan’s security, without getting caught. She has no choice but to follow. Her only other option is to stay here until Samaritan is done with her and she knows that is only going to end one way. With her in a body bag if she’s lucky. She wouldn’t put it past Team Samaritan to leave her rotting where she falls.

They don’t even have any weapons. And when they round the corner to where Shaw knows there is an emergency exit leading to the parking lot, they find it surrounded by guards; two holding Faith by either arm and, in the front looking smug as usual, Jeremy Lambert.

“Let her go,” Fred demands. It’s the first time Shaw’s heard her sounding so angry. It only makes Lambert laugh.

“And what are you going to do about if I don’t, little girl?”

“Trust me,” says Fred, sounding confident. “You don’t want to find out.”

“Oh really?” says Lambert, grinning.

“Really.”

“Do it now, Fred,” says Faith. Even she looks calm considering they are outnumbered, weaponless and on enemy territory. Shaw isn’t even sure what she expects Fred to do. She’s no slayer, but Shaw assumes they must have thought this plan through to some extent, even if she can’t quite see it yet.

“One last chance,” says Fred. There’s something noticeably different about her voice now. It’s lower, colder, makes Shaw take her eyes off the armed guards to look at her. And, quite frankly, she can’t believe what she is seeing.

Right in front of her eyes, Fred Burkle changes.

And, somehow, Shaw knows that this blue creature in front of her isn’t Fred anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, so I lied about when this was set in the AtS universe :D


End file.
